Running to a promise broken by death
by Cid Dante
Summary: Maes Hughes had made a promise to always be there for Roy whenever the man needed to run. Even death hasn't stopped this promise being kept but why can't Roy remember his best friend when he awakes in hospital after going missing? Everyone is concerned that the alchemist has performed the forbidden art when it seems that Maes has returned from the dead...
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

His office was cold, the large window at the far end of the door was open. It had been open for almost four days now and it was the middle of winter. Condensation covered the glass panes, the leather chair was freezing to rest upon but the young man who had entered his new office didn't seem to feel it. Spiders had made elegant webs in the corners and the late night dew had caused them to shimmer like silver in the darkness of the room.

His breath was visible as a fine, warm white mist that lingered briefly in the air. Booted feet echoed on the bare wooden floor and he walked slowly to the large antique desk that sat proudly at the window. He pulled off his white gloves, the freezing air nipping at the exposed skin.

The heavy, grey military coat he wore was dropped with no ceremony or thought to the floor, he didn't care about neatness if he was on his own. There was no one to impress anyway and he was normally so collected that it felt like a relief to simply drop things where they landed. His desk had a delicate glass that still held some liquid in it. The expensive whiskey tumbler sat patiently, as though still waiting for the alchemist to return to it. He sighed heavily as he drained the liquid, the alcohol not numbing anything.

It tasted flat and bland but it still had the burn that good whiskey had. He didn't register any of the subtle hints of aged oak or whatever it should have. It's warmth coated the back of his throat but he had to suppress the shiver of disgust as his body tried to expel the unpleasant liquid. He raised his hand to his mouth, willing the whiskey to remain in his stomach.

It was a battle of wills and his own body finally betrayed him. The battle was a short lived one though and he vomited the amber liquid into a small bin that held failed notes of condolences and apologies to wives and families of people who had died under his command while in the Ishbal war. The bile stained the white paper, the bitter smell making him gag even more.

He landed on his knees with a stifled sob. Every time he came to Central Headquarters, he was fawned over by fanatics and suck ups who would smile to his face while eyeing his back to find a good place to stick a knife in it. He couldn't bear it anymore, their words sounded hollow and wrong to him. He was no hero, no damn hero at all but nobody seemed to listen when he protested. His words would fall on deaf ears and he was tired of screaming now.

He should never have went to the damn horror show that had been the war. Alchemists should never have been ordered out to the front lines and certainly not to be used as living weapons. Many good men and woman had crumbled under the strain of death, some returning broken shells of humans and others unable to return to battle. Central should never had allowed him to return back to civilisation, to interact once again with humans. The alchemist was a monster in human disguise, he wanted to tear his skin off to prove that to people but no, not one soul wanted to listen to his pain.

Slowly, he pulled off his shorter blue jacket, sighing heavily again as he removed his pistol from his holster. He placed it carefully on the desk, long since deciding that monsters held no place in the world and that they should be stopped and destroyed once war was over. He shouldn't have been allowed to come home, his life should have ended with his blood seeping and soaking into the baking sand of the Ishbal desert. He would simply stain the floor in Central instead.

The alchemist forced himself to his feet, using the solid shape of the desk to help him up. It would be easy to perhaps take another method of killing himself instead of the pistol option, he was high up in headquarters and he could take the express elevator down via the window. The young man doubted he would be missed, nobody would really mourn for him, not for long anyhow.

His heavy heart had been lifted ever so slightly when he had seen a warm and smiling face back at the train station when he had arrived in the city a few days ago. The embrace that had been given had lifted his battered spirit to an almost human level and when he had been released from his friend's arms, he had almost begged for the touch to be resumed.

Comfort though had been short lived, he had been whisked away from the source of his potential salvation before the two men had had a chance to exchange actual words and the alchemist was unsure as to when he would actually see the brunette with the sharp hazel eyes again. He placed a hand on the desk, sagging as the weight of his sins were piling on top of him. The screams of his victims demanding retribution and he wanted to give them it, he really did,

It was an effort to breath some days, the involuntary but rather necessary action to the living seemed to crush his chest and strangle what was left of his heart. His drinking had escalated to legendary and it was a small miracle that he could even stand upright enough to pass inspection or even hold what could be classed as an intelligent conversation.

Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang, the infamous Flame Alchemist reached for the whiskey canter and took a large swig from it. He gasped as it burned his throat, gagging as his body reached it's tolerance for alcohol and he vomited again into the bin. He vaguely recalled that the Fuhrer himself had gave him the whiskey, saying it was for a job well down but Mustang didn't care.

All his jobs were 'well done', that was the problem with fire based alchemy. It really only had the one setting that the Fuhrer actually found useful.

His weary eyes spotted a white, crisp envelope with the word Firefly scrawled elegantly across it and a genuine smile managed to threaten his stoic features by tugging at the corners of his pale lips. Only one man would have the gall to call him that and only one man who would dare say it to his face. Roy Mustang traced the lettering with numb fingers, slowly opening the letter and unsure of he really wanted to learn about the contents and that his resolve tonight would waiver. The ink smudged slightly on pale fingers and and his fingertips left smudgy fingerprints on the paper.

Monsters held no place in this world, no place in the world of Maes Hughes and Riza Hawkeye. He should run from Hughes and his family plans, to protect that fragile ideal. The young man shouldn't be around people who considered family to be important and who even dared to care about him, he would only see them scream in terror once they saw the real creature war had created. Roy inched the pistol slightly closer to him with each passing thought of despair, one hand on the letter and the other on the gun.

_Hey Firefly, _the letter started, the name meant as a cute nickname that he secretly was fond of, _I have a funny feeling that we won't be able to to catch up when you hit Central due to scheduling conflicts and idiots wasting your time but I swear, I'll be there looking like some damn soppy army wife for ya but, hopefully, you've seen me by now._

_I'm a little pissed at how you didn't write, you normally do but why didn't you? Let's just say it's been destroyed or eaten by some postal elf or something. We'll go with that shall we? I know bad the post can be out there in Ishbal..._

Roy snorted softly but was relieved that his friend would allow him that favour. He rubbed his chest just above his heart, it felt a little lighter reading the first few lines of the letter but he wasn't sure of he was just imagining the sensation. His grip remained on the pistol but his fingers lay flat on the gun, no longer curled around the trigger.

_Anyhow, _it continued, _I know what you're like when you get like this, head on over to mine. I got dinner and a whole host of cakes made by my amazingly angelic wife! I swear, her carrot cake and apple pie is the best thing I have ever tasted apart from your brownies. Really gotta blackmail you into making them my good friend._

_Armstrong is driving me crazy by the way, Havoc is being a pain in the ass and I swear, Ross is losing my glasses on purpose. I think she hates me or something. Fulman is piling on the woe is me because he can't find himself a girl and I swear, Breda keeps freaking out every time I mention dogs...I might think he's got a fear of them. _

_Gracia thinks you need a hot meal, I think so to if I'm honest so get your skinny ass down here! I don't wanna hear that you fell down an open crack somewhere or have Hawkeye moaning that you turned to the right or something and then disappeared..._

Roy smiled, had his friend stopped by here first or had he gave the leader to somebody in the office? Either way he was actually relieved about receiving it. He had written numerous letters to his friend when he had been stationed in Ishbal but he couldn't send them, the contents too dark and disturbing for Maes to read and the man was dealing with his own demons. He shook his head, clearing it as he read on.

_Roy...I have a fair idea as to what you may be doing or fuck, even contemplating right now. I only hope that you see this before you do something that will ultimately...I don't want to think about it. I do not want to get all dressed up just to stand in front of a damn white stone with a name etched onto it._

_Your girl, Hawkeye, stated that you fell silent in Ishbal and I know only too damn well that when silence falls in a fire, it's never ever a good thing. So, come home and forget about Lieutenant Colonel Roy Mustang and just be Roy for a few days huh?_

_C'mon, come home._

Roy kept reading the last few lines over and over again. He gave the whiskey a passing glance and lifted his hand fully from the pistol. The biting cold of the office that had bitten at his skin seemed to bother him less now as he raised himself from the chair he had sat on. He bolted, scooping up his heavy grey coat as he ran out of the office with no real idea as to why he was or even where he was running to.

**Hughes residence...**

"Stop pacing around hunni," Gracia Hughes chuckled softly as she wrapped her heavy dressing gown around herself, "Come on up to bed."

Her husband was still fully dressed in his military uniform, his square glasses resting on his slender nose. Hughes offered her a crooked smile, shaking his head. He couldn't go to bed yet, not until he knew where his friend for almost a decade was. A tired yawn was trying to work it's way to the surface, he hadn't slept for about about a day and a half now because he had been trying to locate the Flame Alchemist who had went missing. It was sheer luck that the young alchemist's assistant had managed to make it look like the man had nothing but wall to wall meetings when in fact she held no clue as to where he was.

"Sorry beautiful," Hughes pulled her close to him, inhaling the sweet scent of the soap she was using "I need to wait up for a little bit longer."

"Roy?" Gracia said softly, catching the love in her husband's face tinged with worry.

Hughes kissed his wife on the forehead, "Yeah, I'm worried about him. He...looked sad when I saw him a few days back."

Gracia laughed softly, "Sometimes I swear that you married the wrong person. When did he get back?"

"Few days ago," Hughes yawned loudly, "Hawkeye isn't sure exactly when he disappeared but she hasn't been able to find him."

His wife felt her heart skip a beat, "He's missing?"

She had became friends of a sort with the young officer, the man always reserved and quiet whenever he was in the home. He was always polite and seemed to truly come alive when either with her husband or the imposing figure of Riza Hawkeye. Gracia had to admit that Hawkeye had scared her at first but that was only for a short while. Riza had proved to be a loyal and kind friend to those she cared about.

Maes would have nightmares, horrible visions that would leave him in a cold sweat and a less than happy attitude for the day but he had never once turned his anger on her. Gracia had heard stories about other wives of soldiers who were not as lucky. She wasn't a fool though, her husband had disappeared for a few days when he had returned home from the war and he had came back home stinking of alcohol and nursing the mother of all hangovers. He had found his coping mechanism, either drinking with Roy when the young man had leave or taking pictures of nearly everything that made him happy.

Gracia had been privileged when he had shared with her some of the horrors he had seen but she knew that he had gave her the edited version when he was sober. A drunk Hughes was a different creature though, his normally eloquent speech would be littered with curses and vile descriptions and he would be easier to offend but always respectful to his wife. Gracia could only imagine the horrors the alchemists were subjected to when they had been out in the battlefield.

"_State Alchemists are weapons," _Maes had slurred one drunken evening, _"The higher fucking uppers point them at the terrified fucking enemy and the poor bastards fire. It chips at them, Gracia, whatever goodness they had left in them has been ripped out and they aint the same. Then, when they all come home, they get rewarded and praised for killing innocent women and children! How is that...the shit they made us do is nothing compared to what some of the alchemists had to do. Fuck...I saw an Armstrong weep like a damn child. An Armstrong, Gracia! They are some of the toughest people on the planet but watching him like that...Roy...I promised that he would always be my brother and he would always have a home with me."_

"_Why couldn't they have just said no?" _Gracia held her husband's cold hands tightly within her own small hands. The kitchen was normally a warm place, a place where Maes would dance with his wife and make her squeal in laughter as he flicked soapy bubbles at her from the sink but this topic seemed to darken the room even though the light was burning brightly above them.

A cold and distant look appeared in hazel eyes, memories of the war clouding what were normally warm features. She had received a letter from Roy Mustang once, stating how remorseful he was for not being able to rescue her husband from an attack. Gracia had feared the worse when she read the opening lines but it had faded when the then major had wrote that Maes was alive and looking forward to the next batch of cookies that she would diligently make for him.

Hughes had never spoke of what had happened then, his letters had been full of everything else but the incident and had felt...forced, as though he was trying to make himself believe that he was cheerful. His handwriting had taken a bit of a knock and he had allowed Mustang and a young man called Jean to write his letters for a while.

"_Why didn't they just say no?" _Maes said with little emotion, _"Saying no was disobeying an order set by the Fuhrer. Saying no meant you were signing your own death warrant and claiming you were prepared for treason. Baby girl, saying that simple little word would have saw you die by facing the barrel of a friend's gun as they shot you and watching them walk away as your damn soul ebbed away."_

She hated this version of her husband when he drank heavily, the creature that would speak of dark things during the war and had the cold eyes when he looked at her. He spoke of treason quietly and Gracia would try to hush the words but she now began to think that her husband had a point.

"_Maes, did you ever..." _she didn't want to the answer but it might explain why her husband was so unwilling to speak of certain aspects in Ishbal.

"_I tried to help those who needed my help, I didn't care if they had red, blue, brown or whatever eyes. People are damn people and I will not turn my back on those who need my help," _Maes had drained his drink and slammed the glass to the kitchen table, his eyes burning with defiance, facing an echo of someone who had perhaps told him not to.

Those words would always echo in her skull whenever Maes would battle for the rights of alchemists who had fought in the war and how he would treat Roy like family. Her husband had kept his promise though, he had helped those in need. He looked after the alchemist he had befriended during his military academy training days as young teenagers and even during the war.

"Go and look for him," his wife said as she allowed her husband's words to fade into the corners of her mind, "If he shows up here, I'll put him in the spa...in his room."

Hazel eyes framed by dark hair crinkled at the corners, "Thank you baby."

"Hmm," Gracia smiled as Hughes kissed her goodbye, she could feel the love in his kiss and wondered why her husband's friend hadn't found himself someone to love.

It took Hughes about five minutes to willingly leave to the warmth of his home, he didn't want to leave the soft form of his wife but he held a fierce pride in being able to keep promises. The wintry night deciding that whilst it was cold, it would add a biting wind and hard rain to stop any sane soul from leaving the safety of remaining indoors. He pulled his heavy coat around himself, feeling slightly warmer for the simple action but the wind kept blowing the tails of his coat upwards and freezing his calves. The rain soaked the heavy fabric and he would wince as it would slap roughly against his legs.

He needed to think where his friend would go if he was the slender dark haired alchemist. He would need to go further into the city if he wanted to search. The man could disappear if he truly wanted but he knew Roy however. This was a cry for help when it felt like no one was hearing his screams.

A slender blonde woman with short hair got out of a black military car, her features partly hidden by the high collar of her jacket. She made a beeline for the major, saluting in respect when she came nearer. A smile tugged on her lips, her eyes warming the austere look on pretty features that she had adopted since joining the army.

"Major Hughes," First Lieutenant Hawkeye stopped, "Hello."

"...so formal," Hughes lazily saluted her, wishing he had remembered to put on his gloves when he had left the home, "I guess this aint a social catch up huh?"

"No," Hawkeye refused to sigh, "Maes...I lost him. I failed and he's gone."

Hughes stood stunned in the cold night, his jaw dropping slightly as his mind tried to register what the woman was stating. Hawkeye rarely admitted failure, the woman had an impeccable success rate in all her missions. She had earned her last name, she had the eyes of a hawk in battle. An accomplished sniper that had protected her fellow soldiers with deadly accuracy. Hughes had never heard her admit failure so openly and if he was honest with himself, he didn't really like hearing it either.

If Roy Mustang had managed to give his unofficial bodyguard the slip then it didn't bode well. It was highly likely that the quiet man was planning on doing something stupid and hadn't gotten the letter that he had left in his cold office a few days back.

"I'm sure you haven't," Hughes finally said as he found his voice, "When was the last time you saw him?"

"The day he came back to Central Headquarters," Riza informed, pushing a stray lock of hair from her face, "I saw him briefly as Fuhrer Bradley called him into a meeting."

"How'd he seem?" Hughes pushed gently, knowing that the answer would no doubt be an honest one from the woman.

The woman looked off into the distance, giving the answer some thought. How had her friend been that day? Withdrawn? Depressed? Numb? So many negative emotions to describe the emotional state of the man but she didn't know how to deal with that. She had taken to ensuring his physical safety was kept, Riza had allowed Hughes to handle the more delicate emotional side of her commanding officer.

Hughes took her silence as the indicator, "We haven't lost him Riza, he'll never be lost as long as he has us watching out for him."

Hawkeye nodded in agreement, Hughes was always optimistic about everything, no matter how dark the situation was. He had been realistic during the war but he still managed to retain that hope. That delicate, fragile string that hope was and he still held it tightly with the same passion he had when he had taken the lives of the enemy in the desert.

Hughes tilted his head to the sky, rain drops landing on his glasses and his hair was beginning to stick to his skull. He focused on standing like a man who held confidence in his words of finding Roy safe and sound inside of perhaps not really being sure. Where they searching for a living soul or was it to late? He shook himself mentally, no, they were still looking for the living if fragile being the war had created in Roy Mustang.

"He'll never be lost as long as he has us," Hughes repeated as he crossed his arms, "Never. Now, here's what's gonna happen. We are gonna find him and when we do, the air is going to be bluer than our uniforms and I will need to wash my mouth out with bleach before I can kiss Gracia again with half the things that I'm gonna be saying. Once that is over, you are kicking the living hell out of him for making you worry. Is this acceptable first lieutenant?"

_Agreed, _Hawkeye thought as she pulled her jacket tighter around herself, "Yes sir. Shall we search together?"

She watched as tiny drops of rain scattered as Hughes shook his head. It would be faster if they remained separated in order to cover more ground. The city was large and there was plenty of dark alleys and grubby little pubs to hide in. Riza had searched the upper part but she knew she was still nowhere close to even being halfway through it. Tiny drops of rain fell on Hughes glasses as he stared off into the distance, sharp eyes looking for even the tiniest shadows of danger.

The young woman nodded, she understood the request to remain apart. It meant that if either of them found Mustang, they could perhaps make him presentable to the other. She also knew that they would probably argue as to where to keep the man as well. Hawkeye would want him with her but Hughes would no doubt counter that demand and keep him with him and his wife. The man was a better option if she looked at all the facts.

"When we find him, take him to my house," Hughes ordered softly, wiping away rain from his face, "Gracia has a gue...we have the room all set up for him. Please, don't argue with me Riza. We both know..."

"...that he needs a non military environment to rest and refocus in," Hawkeye finished quietly, "I thought you would say something like that."

If she admitted the truth, she was glad that he had ordered this. Hughes chuckled in amusement, he knew people had a view of him as a bubbly man who would chat endlessly about his wife and whatever else he thought would be interesting. Hughes could also sit in silence and simply enjoy the company of whoever he was with, something that Riza found herself envious of.

The man was no fool however, He knew that people would be utterly surprised to learn that he was in the military. His lax and almost bored-of-anything-concerning-military related attitude had earned him a reputation. However, people usually regretted those thoughts when they saw him in full professional mode. He was skilled with blades and an expert at undercover operations.

"Thanks, I think," Hughes shivered as a fat, cold drop of rain somehow managed to find a space down his jacket and onto his neck, "Let's go find him."

He walked confidently away from the woman as she saluted him, he pulled his collar higher around his neck to protect it from the chilly evening. The rain was getting heavier and the tip of his nose was feeling cold and he sniffed to stop it from running. It worried him more than he would like to admit that Roy had managed to give Riza the slip. He would never do that unless he was going to do something stupid again. What that stupid thing was however, was anyone's guess.

Major Maes Hughes walked down the long street, his head lowered in the vain attempt to shield his vision from the rain. His vision was blotted by the raindrops on his glasses and he desperately wanted to return home and stand in a hot shower for the rest of the night but he would not let Roy remain out in this weather. He knew his wife would no doubt had set up the guest room and would have a lovely warm home for the two weary men to return. The idea of a hot meal made his stomach grumble softly, his meals of late had consisted of whatever he had been able to snag from the mess hall at Headquarters and so far, pickings had been pretty dire.

He also wanted to join his wife in the marital bed and in peaceful slumber. He wanted to be indoors and not heading from dingy bar to revolting dives and having numerous propositions from ladies of the night in doorways. Flashing the simple silver of his wedding band had did nothing to dissuade them and he had simply resorted to ignoring the loose women. The streets were empty of others, save from the ladies and other soldiers who had pulled the short straw on patrolling. They would salute him as he stalked by and he blew into his hands in a vain attempt warm them.

_Is he even in Central? _Hughes thought as he sighed in mild annoyance, _I'm gonna kick his ass if I find that he's sleeping in his own damn apartment. The hell should he be all warm and cosy while I freeze my balls off looking for him. Next time, I'm gonna be the one to disappear and I will make him search Fort Briggs in a swimsuit for me while I sip tea._

Hughes booted feet were freezing cold and soaking wet, if he wiggled his toes, he could feel the cold water in his socks. His shoulders ached from being hunched over, he knew that it would no doubt take a good few hours in a hot bath with a mug of tea to warm his cold bones.

People had been commenting at headquarters that this was the coldest winter that Central had had in years. The homeless who usually remained in doorways had found other warm places to sleep until the worst of the weather had passed. Hughes' mind went to the Freezer Alchemist and how the man had a twisted streak after and even during the war. The solid shape of the man would no doubt love this weather but Hughes snorted in mild amusement when a tiny part of his mind offered him the impossible thought that perhaps this weather was all down to the alchemist.

The Flame Alchemist wasn't keen on it. The man didn't hate water or rain but it made him feel useless if he was called out in it. Luckily for the alchemist, Roy was a rather resourceful creature. Alchemists were scientists after all, he would simply change the battle conditions to something more acceptable. If his friend was out in this weather, it only meant that the man was clearly not thinking straight but would not be able to use the deadly dark arts..

_Where the hell are you? _Hughes thought as he headed down the street that he knew that Roy's apartment was.

The street, like all the rest was quiet. Street lights shining dully in the rain and Hughes quickened his pace to reach the apartment block that held Roy's flat. He bounced up the small slight of steps, almost sighing in bliss as he pushed the door open to enter the building. He shivered as he got out of the rain, shaking himself of any excess water that tried to cling to his coat. More stairs lead upwards and Hughes felt his form protest at the flight and the cold that refused to move out.

He made his way upwards and down the corridor, refusing the thoughts of worry any purchase in his mind. His body quickened his breathing, panic wanting to settle into his form as he came closer to the door. He slipped his hand into his inner pocket and pulled out a spare key to his friend's apartment, the small silver key glinted dully in the corridor lights.

_I don't know what I want to find..._ Hughes thought as he placed the key in the lock, resting his head on the wooden door as he turned it. It clicked as it unlocked and he took a breath, holding it in his chest as he pushed the door open.

He expected the smell of death to assault his nose, to hear perhaps flies buzzing about a still form but there was nothing. The house smelt of nothing and Hughes released the breath he had been holding as he entered the small flat. Books were scattered across the floor, piled high and he could just about make out the shape of a desk near the window with a lamp battling for position with thick, heavy books.

Alchemy circles were drawn on paper and had been scattered in what to the untrained eye would have been random patterns but Hughes had a basic knowledge of the dark arts and was aware that it was meant for a much more drastic and dangerous alchemy practice. One that was strictly forbidden by all those who practised and would have the performer killed.

He scanned the room, looking for any kind of clue. There was nothing, it looked as though the flat was barely used for anything more than storage or perhaps research. A small cot with a few light, bundled up covers seemed to buckle under the weight of more books. The home would have looked more in place being a storage room at the main library rather than an actual home.

Hughes knew that Roy would stay at his place when he was staying in the city, preferring to have people around him rather than be left alone with his own thoughts. The major had gotten so used to having someone waiting for him to come home that he had forgotten how much it hurt to grace an empty home so they had told the alchemist that he was always had a home and a bed at the Hughes residence.

Gracia didn't mind having guests, she always cooked enough food to feed a small army and Hughes had taken many leftovers to this house over the years he had dated his wife. The chance to look after another person seemed to bring out the best in his wife and she always seemed to come alive doing so and Maes had decided that she was going to be a perfect mother to the many kids they were going to have.

_Okay, so you aren't here. Not at Madam Christmas's either, _he pulled a face as turned round in a slow circle, blowing out a frustrated breath as he resumed his thoughts of trying to find his friend, _where the hell are you?_

He headed out of the flat, locking it as he did. His amused mood from earlier had completely disappeared and was replaced with real concern. The next thought on his mind was to start calling around hospitals and even the local morgues, an idea that froze his soul to the core.

His glasses slipped down his nose and he pushed them upwards with his index finger. Roy had this unique talent for being one of the most frustrating men ever to grace the planet and he also needed to be protected from himself at times. Hughes and Hawkeye had taken the mantle of ensuring that he would remain safe but the alchemist would certainly make it difficult.

The darkness in his thoughts seemed to bring out a new coldness to the night and the rain had taken on almost razor like feel. He squinted as the rain began to seep through his heavy jacket and water ran down into his eyes. Shoving his hands into his pockets only caused painfully brief relief as he resumed walking down the road. Shops were boarded up and closed until the few short hours of the morning and the major suddenly found himself craving a hot drink.

Someone crashed into him from behind and Hughes stumbled forward, almost falling to the ground. Hughes growled in annoyance as he span round, ready to unleash a few choice words until he released who had fell into him. A slender figure staggered backwards, taking a step away and stumbling back towards Roy's apartment.

"Roy?!" Maes blinked in a mixture of relief and surprise.

Dark eyes refused to lift to meet hazel and when they did, the dark circles under his eyes only highlighted how exhausted and sad they looked in the street lighting. Roy wasn't wearing his heavy jacket, his thin white shirt was soaked onto his chest and Hughes stood stunned at the dripping wet mess that stood before him.

"The hell have you been?" Hughes chided softly as he removed his outer coat and wrapped it around the freezing and wet alchemist, "I was getting worried."

He pulled him automatically into a tight embrace, Roy stank of cheap booze and had a delicate smell of some drug that Hughes wasn't aware of but knew was illegal. It didn't matter however, Hughes seemed to fall into brother mode almost instantly whenever Roy needed him to.

State Alchemists had certain privileges that could be overlooked by law but there was a limit. A heavy bruise lined a pale jaw and the young man looked stoned. Normally sharp eyes blinked slowly, struggling to truly remain open as whatever narcotics worked their way through his body.

"I...ah, I don't...I don't feel so good," Roy leaned into the embrace, almost sighing in content as he felt the warmth of his friend's form. Maes uniform was still mostly dry and he rubbed his cheek on the fabric.

Hughes looked up to the black sky, the rain finally beginning to ease off but still making itself felt. His friend was a mess and it was his job to put him back together again the best way he knew how. Roy's hair was a tangled wet mess and it stuck to his skull, unable to soak up anymore rain water. The excess water ran down his face, making it look as though he was crying and Hughes wasn't sure if some of the water droplets really was rain or if it was honest tears.

"Yeah," Hughes nodded, "Yeah, I know. Come on Roy, I need a hot bath and you need sleep. You really look like shit kid."

Roy shook his head, his breath hitching in his chest. He wiped his face with a shaky hand, sniffing back the sob that he wanted to give in to. Hughes said nothing but readjusted the coat, keeping a soft smile on his lips. The man was getting wet, having relinquished the only thing that had been keeping himself dry to give to him. Hughes pulled him back towards him, placing a strong arm around his shoulders.

"I...I don't want to sleep," Roy admitted quietly, "Maes, please, don't let me sleep. I can hear their screams...all are begging..."

"You'll do as you are told, firefly," Hughes interrupted, he needed to get them home and into dry clothes, "You've had me and Gracia worried sick and only the gods know what sort of wrath Hawkeye has brewing for you."

"Major! Lieutenant Colonel," Hawkeye seemed to have perfect timing, the car pulled up beside them, "Get in, please."

Roy instantly tensed in his arms, "...she's pissed right?"

_Who says Roy Mustang is a fool? _Hughes laughed to himself, "And I'm not?"

"You...you can never stay mad at anyone," Roy whispered softly into his shoulder.

Hughes frowned as he tilted his head slightly, that's not true. He held some deep grudges, ones that he would never allow to fade away but when it came to his family and friends...he was a true believer that you should never go to bed with angry words in the air. He always made sure of that.

The car had an inviting warmth as they came closer and Maes felt it was almost worth a sigh of relief as he opened the passenger door in the back. Roy was quickly bundled into the back, the young officer not voicing any complaints but he avoided looking at the blonde woman in the driving seat. Hughes saw Hawkeye's light brown eyes in the rear view mirror and she couldn't disguise the look of concern.

"Not lost," Hughes said quietly to her as he climbed in to the car himself.

"Is he alright?" Riza asked softly as she kept her gaze forward, turning up the heat in the car.

Hughes sat next to the alchemist, "He's just drunk. I'll sober him up when we get home and put him to bed."

Mustang was drunk, that was obvious. Hughes hated lying but he couldn't see how else he could answer. The man was stoned as well, he sat staring at the door handle, dark eyes looking almost black in the lighting of the car and the street lights. He slumped slightly to the left, falling against Hughes and he rested his head on his shoulder, closing his eyes.

"I'm...I'm a monster," he mumbled softly into the collar of Hughes uniform, "You should be running like hell from me."

"I told you," Hughes smiled, "You're stuck with me and Hawkeye kiddo."

"...I'll burn you..." Roy yawned sleepily as whatever drugs in his system began to tire his body, "I don't want that...I...I..."

Sleep claimed Mustang, Hughes shifting his weight slightly so that Mustang's elbow wasn't sticking into his side. His heavy coat seemed to drown the lieutenant colonel's slender form and it was as if sleep was the only thing that managed to bring some relief to the man. In the small space of the car, Maes became aware of how his friend smelt. Riza had turned up the heat and it finally made it's way into the cold clothing of his bones but Maes wasn't sure if Roy would actually feel the warmth of it through the wet clothing but the major simply thought that once he got him home, everything would be alright.

**Hughes Residence...two days later...**

His world consisted of a few solid facts. One: he was warm for the first time in a week, he was also incredibly comfortable. He was face down on pillows that were clean, a fluffy cover was draped over his form. Two: his body had two conflicting feelings. He badly needed to pee and his head was going to make him very aware of the epic hangover he was going to have the very second he dared to make a move from the comfort.

He opened his eyes, the room he was placed in was dark and a third fact entered his fuzzy mind. He stank to the high heavens, much to his disgust and he pulled a face. All his current issues could be solved with a trip to the bathroom but he found that the strength he needed couldn't be found.

Roy pushed himself up from his position, the world spinning round. It slowed but the alchemist didn't want to move any further that what he had. He lowered his gaze down to his chest and his white shirt was filthy. It was stained with blood, vomit and what he could only think and hope was dirt as his mind refused to connect that dots that would allow him to recollect the week he had lost.

He slowly inched off the bed, placing wobbly legs of the soft carpet. Someone had taken off his boots but had left his socks on, he still wore his blue uniform trousers but his belt had been taken off as well. Roy took a deep breath, wincing as his chest announced a few new pains and his bladder became more insistent after he moved a little bit more towards the end of the bed. He stood up and instantly regretted the action as he fell to his knees, his legs refusing to hold his weight.

A soft mousy blonde poked her head into the room, a look of concern on her face as she spotted her husband's friend out of bed and tangled in bed sheets on the floor. Gracia dropped her gaze for a second before slipping into the room with a tray filled with food. She switched the light on and Roy narrowed his eyes to bar the bright light but the light had been dulled with a dark shade.

_Maes...you pretty much think of everything, _Roy closed his eyes as he rubbed his face tiredly, thankful that his friend had found him.

"It's nothing fancy but Maes said to make sure you ate something," Gracia placed the tray next to him on the floor, "There's some pain relief there too."

"I'm...I'm sorry," Roy whispered, every word thumping a drill into his skull in time with his pulse, "Gracia...I..."

Hughes wife was an angel, Roy thought as the woman smiled at him. There was no malice, no pity or disgust as she looked at the broken mess that was sitting in a heap in her spare bedroom. There was simply a loving look on her heart shaped features and the Flame Alchemist wondered if that was how mothers would look at children. That simple look that could set the world to rights with a mere smile.

"Take your time," Gracia patted his hand, "Okay? Don't rush, I can always make more."

_Hughes found me, _Roy thought as he lifted his gaze to the tray, _he found me and brought me here. _

Gracia stood up, making a point not to look down on the fallen hero of Ishbal. He didn't need pity or sympathy. He needed someone who could stand behind him to push him forward and she knew her husband was one of the people who would be capable of that.

"Gracia," Roy sounded embarrassed, pale dirty features washing a pink colour, "...is...is Maes home?"

"He's sleeping," Gracia replied as she pulled out a few towels from the wardrobe, "Can I help?"

She didn't tell the man that her husband had been up for over four days with little sleep, if any, watching over the sleeping alchemist as nightmares claimed him and the drugs caused horrible visions. He had only went to bed when Roy had finally fallen into a peaceful sleep and when she had practically dragged her husband back into the marital bed.

"It's okay," Roy breathed as he resigned himself to crawling to the bathroom, "Thank you, Gracia."

Mrs Hughes nodded, excusing herself from the room. She was aware that Roy was a very private man and allowing her to see him like this was a sign of trust. She had found some clean clothes that no longer fitted her husband and knew that she wouldn't need to ask to give them to Roy. She would wait a few moments before entering the room with them, Roy would call out if he needed help.

Roy pulled himself across the carpet, the fabric feeling soft under his fingertips and he cursed himself for being weak and pathetic. A walk that would normally take a few seconds seemed to be like an epic trek across Fort Briggs in deep winter. His bladder becoming more insistent and he wondered if he would actually make it to the bathroom in time.

Two strong arms wrapped themselves around his chest and Roy cried out in surprise. He didn't have the strength to fight them off but he needn't have worried. The deodorant of his friend reached his nose and he heard Maes yawn sleepily as he helped Roy to stand.

"The...one...time I thought it would be...would be safe to grab a nap," Maes statement was littered with yawns, "you wake up."

Roy wiped his face with a shaky hand, a smile trying to turn his lips upwards. He found himself leaning backwards into the warmth of his friend. His eyes threatened to close again as sleep wanted to claim him again, this wasn't the first time he had fallen asleep in Maes arms and he had honestly thought they were both past that time.

"I can't seem to stand up," Roy admitted fuzzily, "Who replaced my legs with jelly?"

Maes yawned, "I did, thought it would be fun and I had to do something as you snored away the past three days."

Roy froze in Maes grip, days? He had been sleeping for days? He allowed his friend to help him to the bathroom, the comment made sense and he slowly brought his hand to his chin, feeling the stubble that was now on his chin. It terrified him, how close had he been to the edge?

"Gracia made you some food," Maes said gently, "Try and eat something huh?"

Roy managed to stand shakily on his own two feet, he could feel the soothing warmth of his friend's body behind him and Roy wanted to sink back into it. It had been so long since he had been next to someone who cared about him and wanted nothing. Roy nodded as he took a few steps towards the toilet, unsure about what his body wanted to do first. Throw up or pee?

Maes patted him on his back and that action helped make up his mind. He watched as Roy lifted the seat up and Maes left the en suite and closed the door but left it open a few inches. His friend was a private soul but god, he stank right now. He looked awful. Roy would need a hot meal, a shower and a change of clothing before Maes would even think about letting the man out of his sight and before he allowed Hawkeye to see her friend.

He was wary of even letting her know that he was back in the land of the living and making coherent sentences. The woman had wanted to stay with him but Maes had ordered her to remain away, Roy always wanted the blonde to see him standing and strong. It was only Maes who was allowed to the dubious honour of seeing a mess of a man.

"I don't think I can stomach food," Roy replied breathy sigh, "I can barely stomach breathing or thinking."

"No shit," Maes didn't sound to surprised at that, he would have been more surprised if Roy had woke up bouncing like a playful puppy and as bright as a button, "You drank enough to knock out the Armstrong clan. Twice over."

A pained laugh escaped from the alchemist, "Twice huh?"

"Yeah," Maes chuckled, "Quite impressed you could even stand."

"...we talking gentle giant or the ice queen?" Roy responded, he had served with the huge muscle form of Alexander Luis Armstrong and was rather fond of the gentle soul.

The eloquent man had been one of the smartest men during the war and had left when it had became to much for him to bear. Roy had been the last of the remaining alchemists that had endured to the bitter end and the he always wished he hadn't. A simple fact that burned at his heart on an almost daily basis and he was jealous of Armstrong for having the strength to go when he did.

"Feels like I went a few rounds with both of them," Roy said as he relieved himself, "I got into a fight out huh?"

"More than one," Maes stated carefully, "I have had to pull a lot of favours and kissing ass to stop your name being dragged through the mud."

Roy went to the sink, wary of looking at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn't going to be fresh faced or presentable and he was no use to man nor beast. He could feel the stubble itching on his chin and if he asked Maes his opinion on his looks, the chirpy man would no doubt tell him that he didn't look as bad as he thought he did.

He ran the tap, taking a few mouthfuls of the cold water and wincing as it caused a painful reaction in his stomach. A retch that caused him to double over, the water exiting the same way it had entered. Roy gripped the edge of the basin, willing himself to remain upright.

_I'm a fucking mess, _he thought as he sank to the floor, horrified when Maes re-entered the bathroom.

Roy swatted his friend away when he tried to help, "Just, just leave me."

Maes shook his head, annoyance flashing ever so briefly in hazel eyes. The man on the floor was a drama queen at times and Maes would always be the first one to call him on that if the man became unreasonable. Hughes would allow the man numerous leeway if it was anything war related. The man suffering torture when he had been captured by the enemy who had managed to get lucky.

"I'm not going anywhere" Maes stated as he brought in the breakfast tray and sat down beside him, "Stuck with me buddy."

The major had to admit that when Roy smiled, it took years off the face, even a small one that barely tugged on the corner of dry lips. Short dark hair was greasy and tousled in a way that spoke of nightmares and headaches. Dark eyes blinked in the soft light of the evening sun as it broke though the window in the bathroom.

"I have no problem with that," Roy leaned against the bath, enjoying how cool it felt against his skin.

He felt tired, his body ached and no doubt he had went a few rounds with both Riza and Maes during his self pity and indulging spree. His two friends would never admit that they had fought with him however. They would simply brush it off if he tried to apologise and would ignore his remorseful looks by acting as though nothing had happened between them.

"Good," Maes stated with a grin, "We're gonna take a vacation Roy. You and I, just to have a catch up and relax."

It broke his heart when his friend's eyes sparkled with life when Maes had offered this. A simple idea that seemed to mean the world to the young lieutenant colonel and Roy nodded as he rubbed the back of his neck, slumping against the bath a little further. He accepted the mug Maes handed to him and didn't even fight when he told him to use both hands.

_Roy...talk to me buddy, _Maes thought as he helped his friend take a shaky sip of the hot, sugary drink, _I am not going to watch you burn. I did enough of that back in Ishbal, during that fucking war when you were to slow in a fight or...or when..._

"Maes, this vacation," Roy shifted himself so that he was touching Maes, "...are we going to be camping? I hate camping."

"Nope," Maes pulled himself out of the war, "You are gonna get us a plush hotel with your alchemy budget. Room service and spa treatment on tap. Sun, sand and clear water firefly!"

The Flame Alchemist broke into a laugh. A quiet chuckle at first which barely made his shoulders move but built to a proper belly laugh. His friend sniffing back tears of amusement as he tried to control his laughter.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

A letter from M. Hughes to R. Mustang...

_Roy, how you doing? Hopefully you've stopped throwing up and ruining my bed sheets. I swear, I think you've threw up every single meal you've had in your entire life but if you have vomited on my favourite sweatshirt, I will end your skinny ass myself. I will kick your ass via Resembool via Ishbal and back through Fort Briggs._

_Anyhow, sorry for this but I tried waking you up but you were out like a light. I've managed to get Hawkeye to clear your schedule for the next week. I'll admit that I am rather surprised at how easy that was but it seems our lord and master King Bradley has decided that all alchemists deserve a holiday, (how very convenient) so, I'm stopping by your place to pick up some clothes and other stuff that you'll need._

_I'll see you in a couple of hours, I hope, your place is a mess! Now I know why you're so eager to stay at mine! I may need to tidy up before I can leave it, Maes._

Roy scanned the letter, the weight of the crushing desperation easing slightly when he read and reread the part where Maes had informed him that the Fuhrer had allowed all alchemists a break from their duties. A chance to recharge broken batteries and try to create happier memories to dream about again. Shoulders slumped in relief as he closed his eyes for a brief second to take in the information.

His sweatshirt sleeves slid down slender arms as he placed the letter on the bedside table. He had been at the Hughes home for a few days now. Riza, his ever watchful guardian had stopped by earlier that day to hand him the letter, she had eyed him with a calculated look but Roy could see the relief on the woman's pretty face as she had seen him standing.

Maes had helped him wash and make himself presentable to the human race again. His boyish features clean shaven and clean clothes had been gratefully accepted. The lean male had simply ignored any attempts Roy tried when he had tried to utter apologies to him. The optimistic man had brushed of the attempts but Roy knew that he had probably scared the hell out of him at some point as dark bags of lack of sleep made sharp eyes more prominent and a normally relaxed temperament was close to showing irritation.

Gracia had never once made him feel unwanted, simply offering whatever help she could and doing whatever her husband asked. She had packed the bags for her husband when he had told her that he was staying away for a few nights. The quiet woman hadn't questioned him, simply smiling and accepting.

The guest room was warm and cosy, the curtains open and the afternoon sun was filtering through the netting that Gracia had put up. His bed was unmade but he had been napping on and off over the few days and he was feeling slightly better for it.

Hawkeye had quietly told him that if he needed anything then he should call her and she would be there. She had been reluctant in allowing him to leave the city for the short break Hughes had organised but the very fact that it was Maes doing the dragging had soothed her doubts. Major Hughes rarely did any work on holiday and he could fill any awkward silences far better than she could ever do.

There was also the simple fact that Maes had subtly ordered her not to follow them. He needed Roy to be completely free of anything military, enough space for the man to breath deeply the clean air. She had awkwardly hugged him goodbye, wishing him a pleasant trip and that she would be back to scolding him like a child for unfinished paperwork when he returned.

Riza had squeezed him with affection before releasing him like she had been struck by lightning when she had heard Gracia Hughes pottering about in the next room.

Roy had blinked in surprise, he couldn't hide the hurt that had washed over him. His body seemed to crave the touch and the attention that she had gave him. It was the same feeling he had got when Maes had hugged him a few days back on the train platform.

His friend had left him, reiterating the same promise to call if he needed her. He could hear the unspoken words that echoed after them, _even if you want to moan about Maes being a total motherhen or even sit in silence._

He was always wary about being left alone, even if he was in no danger. That was when the dark thoughts would always creep in, the small niggling little doubts that would try to poison his happy mood or optimism. Gracia seemed to be obsessed with leaving tea and sandwiches out for him every time she heard him moving about upstairs, not that the alchemist was complaining. His appetite had returned and if food was out then he would pick at it.

He spotted a picture on the dresser and headed over to it. It showed him as a teen, smiling with a positively beaming Maes. A pose that the two men seemed to repeat in every photo they found themselves in. He would have a soft smile, bordering on breaking into a silly grin while his friend would bypass the entry grin and smile like he had all the riches in the world.

Memories of the academy tumbled in his head, one where he had encountered a clean and fresh faced Maes Hughes as a teenager. A time before the war, before the hell that he had been subjected to. Those precious few years of blissful ignorance of not fully realising what it meant to be a state alchemist, a dog of the military. His nights would have been full of dreams of what ifs and hope.

**Military academy**

The faces of over a hundred young hopeful men and women sat at long, sturdy tables. Chattering amongst themselves as they had their evening meals. A table had been set aside at the far right of the room, reserved for only the elite among them.

A table set for only for the trainee alchemists and for this years intake, there was hardly any that had stood out well enough. In fact, it was a record this year. There had been only one successful applicant for the classes and even then, he was something of a prodigy. The young male had stuck out like a sore thumb and he found that no one wanted to know him.

The trainee alchemist had tried to avoid detection by sitting at the end of the table, nearer to people around him in the vain hope that someone would invite him over but no one ever did. It was like being back at school, he was always being picked on or ignored. This time, it wasn't because he grew up in a reported brothel or because children were cruel creatures. It was simply because he was smarter than the rest of them and had failed to hide it well enough.

The young male had tried his best to fit in, he had smiled sweetly at the girls and had tried to fit in with the boys only for the girls to ignore him and the boys, well, they usually allowed their fists to do the talking. No one wanted to be friends with him, he heard the whispers of freak and weirdo.

Roy Mustang stared sullenly at his meal, playing with a piece of what he assumed was chicken but he had heard the standard rumours floating around about the food. It needed more seasoning but he stabbed his fork into a dark piece, inspected it for a good few moments and chewed on it thoughtfully. It wasn't chicken but he was hungry.

"There's the freak this year," Roy heard a loud booming voice from behind him and it was followed by a wet splat of food against the back of his head.

He chewed his bottom lip, forcing himself not to show any kind of emotion as the people in front of him turned round. They sniggered and laughed at him but not one offered to help him. This was a daily occurrence, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the bullies. He knew that he wasn't here to make friends, he was using this as a stepping stone. If he had to endure loneliness then so be it.

"Freak! Go back to whatever lab you crawled out of!" the booming voice teased coldly.

Roy set his shoulders, desperately willing himself not to show how the words cut like a knife. His cheeks burned hot, his nose tingled as his eyes watered. He kept repeating to himself that he wasn't here to make friends, he returned his attention back to his meal. Tears blurred his vision as he swallowed another bite.

The sound of metal being scrapping against concrete caught his attention as somebody sat down beside him. Hazel eyes catching brown instantly with a smile, a friendly square face squinting at him. A pair of glasses rested crookedly on the raven haired new arrival's head. The right leg of the glasses chewed and bent, the lens in the square frames cracked from one corner to the opposing top diagonal. The male sported a fading black eye but he didn't seem fazed at all by it.

_What the hell...? _he thought as the teen leaned against the table.

Roy felt a second wet splat and a stray tear escaped down his hot cheek. His eyes widened as he waited for the teen to mock him for crying. He remained staring into his meal once he tore his gaze from the smiling stranger. Roy refused to move in case his resolve crumbled, he was very aware that his companion was looking very intently at him.

He made a surprised sound when the raven haired teen with the broken glasses and warm eyes used a finger to scoop up some of the gravy that now coated Roy's neck and licked it clean with a less than satisfied noise of approval. He pulled a face and sighed with amusement.

"Huh, needs more salt," came a surprisingly chirpy reply, "How's your dinner?"

Roy made another frustrated and surprised sound when the teen went in for a second scoop of under seasoned gravy. He showed no sign of hesitation or even embarrassment in his actions. Roy opened his mouth to say something but the stranger looked at him with the same smile.

"Cadet Hughes!" the voice of Roy's bully sounded shocked, "Get away from it. You don't want to contract the freak disease!"

_So, his name is Hughes..._Roy thought as he saw the look of mock horror on the teen's face, _why is he sitting beside me?_

Hughes placed a hand on a slender shoulder, pulling Roy closer to him. The trainee alchemist had to plant a steadying hand between Hughes' legs, a hotter blush washing over him. Roy felt his heart thump loudly in his chest as Hughes grinned at him with a look that screamed mischief.

He could smell cigarette smoke on Hughes breath, mixed with vanilla from desert that Roy hadn't got to yet. Hughes breath was soft and warm on Roy's ear and the alchemist in training found a small part wanting to follow this male to the ends of the earth if he said the right words.

An older Roy Mustang would swear years later that Maes Hughes was a man who could say the right things at the wrong time only for those who truly listened to understand that, actually, it was always the correct words and time. The man seemed to be a sage beyond his years and that drew people towards him. Maes had this instinct that seemed to tune into the greater wisdom of the universe, even if you didn't want his knowledge.

"Let's cause some trouble," Hughes whispered, "What do you say? Raise the roof huh?"

_Raise the roof huh? _A slow smile worked it's way onto Roy's lips, he was hailed as a prodigy after all.

He nodded slowly, trying to ignore the jolts of what felt like electricity racing down his spine as Hughes chuckled beside him. He wrapped an arm around his new accomplice, there was something about this teen that told Roy to follow him.

"Have you a pen or..." Roy somehow wasn't surprised as Hughes offered him a piece of chalk with a grin that seemed to get bigger.

_You are gonna be trouble aren't you? _Roy thought as he drew a transmutation circle on the table, _but why the hell am I following you? Am I that desperate for attention?_

He slammed his hands on the table once he finished drawing the circle and suddenly realised that he had made a slight miscalculation in the alchemy but it was too late by then. He also realised that he was the only alchemist in the class this year, the trouble he was in was going to be of epic proportions and that it wouldn't be difficult to deduce who was the culprit. Chaos followed as the room responded to the spell that had been cast, the roof blossomed into an intricate concrete flower as people screamed and fled the mess hall.

Hughes was on his feet, laughing with amazement as he grabbed hold of Roy, pulling him towards the exit before the real trouble began. They used the confusion to make their escape, knowing that Roy would no doubt be pulled in for discipline once the madness calmed down.

The silence outside the hall was almost deafening when they slammed the heavy doors shut. The air was soft and cool, a contrast that Roy found pleasant and it managed to cool his cheeks down. He leaned against the doors, taking deep breaths to steady his nerves.

Hughes was still laughing, a sound that Roy found infectious. He allowed himself a chuckle, watching the boy carefully as he wiped away a tear. Hazel eyes were wet but shined with amusement at what had happened. Hughes took a few deep breaths, calming himself enough to regard his new partner in crime. Hughes narrowed his eyes, squinting as he tried to locate the quiet boy he had caused havoc with.

"Uhh," Hughes blinked, "Still here?"

Roy's eyes widened, was his eyesight that bad? Quietly, he drew a circle on the ground, keenly aware that time was short before someone found them. He was going to fix the raven haired teen's spectacles if he was trusted enough. It was the least he could do.

"Give me your glasses," Roy held his hand out to Hughes, placing his other hand on his arm, "I'll fix them with alchemy."

"You can do that?" Hughes raised a curious eyebrow, trying to see what the kneeling teen had drawn on the ground.

"I can try," Roy replied.

It was almost comical watching Hughes trying to find his glasses that were sitting pride of place on his head. He patted himself down on the chest before checking his pockets, a look of concern washed briefly over angular features as Roy offered him a smile. The young slender teen with dark eyes plucked the item from his head, placing them in the centre of the circle. There was no missing pieces, Roy knew it was going to be an easy fix. A soft light flashed briefly as the transmutation worked, the glasses looking brand new again.

Hughes watched him intently, wishing he was able to see exactly what had happened but he gratefully accepted the glasses when Roy placed them back in his hands. He put them on, sighing mentally with content as he finally saw the smile Roy was giving him. Much to Roy's amusement and amazement, it seemed like the teen's grin became wider as he finally saw a clear Roy.

He held out his hand, "Maes Hughes. Pleased to meet you."

Roy looked at the hand before gingerly taking it, "Roy Mustang."

"So, Roy Mustang," Maes scratched a spot above his right eyebrow, "Shall we create some awesome excuse like the roof was dull and boring or run like hell before we get nothing but drill practice for the rest of the night and have our downtime ruined by staring the mud as we do press ups in full combat gear?"

"I'm the only alchemist in this year," Roy replied, "You go. I'll cover for you, there isn't much point both of us getting kicked out."

The boy with the infectious grin shook his head, "I got your back. This is after all my fault, I dragged..."

**Present...**

"...dragged you along," Hughes groaned with effort as he threw the suitcases on the luggage rack above their heads, "I really don't like the vampire look you seem to think is hot right now."

Roy blinked sleepily, suddenly aware that he wasn't at Maes home. He remained silent, not wanting Maes to worry about his sudden memory loss. He remembered Gracia trying to get him to eat by leaving him treats around the home and it brought up memories of the academy and of meeting her husband for the first time.

"You okay? What are you thinking about?" Maes beamed at his wife as she remained on the platform outside the train carriage, he blew her a kiss, feeling a little sad that he was leaving her for a few days.

Roy slumped into the soft seats in the carriage, his strength deserting him. He could see the love Maes held in his heart for his wife as the man watched her from the window and the love was returned back with the same passion. He offered Maes a tired smile, what was he thinking about really?

"...the day we met," Roy finally said as he rubbed the back of his neck, "There was a photo of us in the spare room, back during the academy."

A surprised laugh erupted from his friend in the carriage, a fond smile reaching his lips. Hazel eyes framed by square glasses misted over as he remembered the evening that had started their unbreakable friendship. He scratched his cheek, Gracia blowing him one last kiss before leaving the platform to return back home.

Hughes was a man who inspired loyalty and Roy had to admit that Maes had found a good woman in the shape of Gracia. He sighed softly, it made him wonder if he would ever find the same kind of woman and what Hughes had actually decided to share with the woman. Was it all of the horrors that he had seen during the wars or had it been edited to simply the more...humane parts that, even then Maes would have edited.

He had a feeling that Gracia was still in blissful ignorance regarding what the Flame Alchemist had done. Maes would have simply have said that all alchemists who had been posted in the desert had performed some pretty foul things under the order of the Fuhrer Bradley. Gracia had surprised Roy when he had stayed the first night when he had spent his first night in Central a few months back, she had embraced him with love and stated that he was always welcome in their home.

"That was one hell of a way to start a friendship off," Maes finally said, "The roof still messed up?"

"Yes," Roy allowed a smug smile to emerge on his face, "I think I made an error back then. I hear that alchemists try and fix it every so often but no one knows why it won't go back."

"Maybe you did. You were still training to be an alchemist right? We stood outside in the rain doing drills for the entire night. I swear, I had icicles in places that I didn't know we could have them," Hughes shivered, "I think they got the Freezer Alchemist in for fun."

Roy laughed, raising a farewell hand to Gracia as she turned round for one last look at the train before it pulled out of the station and away from the platform. She waved back, her eyes never showing pity but she had asked Roy to watch over her husband when they were together.

The train jolted into movement, a sad sigh escaping from Maes as he placed his hand on the window. He had said goodbye to his wife in bed last night, at breakfast and in the car before they got to the station. Roy had felt his cheeks burn in embarrassment at the farewell as Maes forgot his friend was sitting in the back seat of the car. A polite cough from Roy had managed to get a rather embarrassed giggle from Gracia and a snort of amusement from Maes.

"She could have came with us," Roy offered quietly as the train freed itself from the station, he crossed his arms as he settled more into the seat.

Maes moved his hand from the window, he knew that but he had meant what he had said in the bathroom. It had been too long since the two men had had a chance to laugh like idiots the way they did when they were cadets. He sat beside him, allowing a rush of air to escape as he thought about the statement his friend had just said. It was said more out of politeness rather than holding any real weight.

"Yeah but we're having a boys only holiday," Maes replied as he crossed his legs at the ankles, "Can't exactly tell the really dirty stories or jokes if my wife is around now can we?"

"You can't tell the really dirty ones without giggling like a three year old," Roy snorted as he pulled his jumper tighter around himself, he had claimed one of Hughes jumpers before he had left the home.

The fabric was warm and soft and he knew it drowned his slender frame. Maes was broader across the chest than he was and was taller by a good few inches but it had never stopped Roy from borrowing the odd shirt or jumper whenever he was staying. He never had a brother, he was an only child but he had always seen the man sitting next to him as a brother.

Discreetly, his 'brother' pulled out a camera when Roy looked out of the window. Maes was obsessed with the taking of photographs, recording everything that had made him smile and that evoked strong feelings that could drive a soul forward. A hobby that Roy never could get into, simply allowing Maes whatever he wanted within reason.

"Put it away Major Hughes," Roy said without the hint of annoyance but trying to keep a straight face, "Enough."

"Creating memories firefly," Maes offered as the camera clicked, the man holding the camera at arms length to take a snap as he pulled Roy near him.

The young lieutenant colonel sighed softly as he closed his eyes, "Just...don't go insane."

"Roy, Roy, Roy," Maes made a sweeping gesture with his arm that wasn't wrapped around his friend, "Me? Insane? Are you kidding me?"

**Four hours later...**

Maes found himself in that pleasant state of not quite being awake and not quite sleeping. He was semi aware of his surroundings and that Roy was currently snoring softly into his shoulder. It was a pleasant sound that had been a while in coming. It had came as a surprise to him when his friend had admitted that he had been thinking of the past, especially the first day they had encountered each other.

The major lost himself in his own memories, watching the scenery go by on the train. He had stopped by command headquarters before he had returned home to speak with Hawkeye but the woman wasn't there. It had turned out that she was visiting his home to see her superior officer. That didn't bother him, it had allowed him the chance to check Roy's office without being harassed or questioned by the pretty blonde. It also allowed him to tidy up any kind of incriminating evidence that may have been laying around.

Maes had been surprised at how cold the room had been when he had opened the doors to the office, he had instantly shut the window and tidied up out of habit. The pistol and the letter he had wrote sat next to an empty glass and Hughes hated how his heart had skipped a beat in dread.

The pistol had been right next to the tumbler, easily within arms reach of someone sitting down. Had Roy been planning on doing something stupid? He had quickly picked up the handgun and removed the full magazine from the handle, relieved that Roy had ran from the wrong decision. He opened a drawer and placed the gun in it, placing the magazine next to it. He had locked the drawer and put the letter in the short blue uniform jacket's inner pocket, hoping that his friend would always read the last part of the letter if he was ever depressed again.

It was always scary when his friend would shut down and run, one day, Maes knew that he would run somewhere where he just wouldn't be able to find him. Maes yawned loudly, bringing himself back to the present. He closed his eyes again, taking a deep breath to rid himself fully of depressing thoughts.

He was dressed casually, wearing his favourite purple shirt under a dark suit jacket. He had wore it partly to annoy Roy who could act like the fashion police and partly because he really liked it. Roy wore a light coloured jumper, a contrast to the purple shirt his friend wore. The fabric was loose, the major was aware that his friend had managed to bruise a few ribs and was loathe wearing anything that constricted his chest.

Maes took a deep, sleepy breath, yawning as quietly as he could, clearing his thoughts completely. They had spoken briefly about it, Roy had asked what had brought Maes to him and Maes couldn't really find an answer that his friend would actually believe.

It hadn't been out of pity or sympathy. He had watched the alchemist sitting alone, day in and day out without anyone going near him for three weeks and had decided that enough was enough. The teen wasn't some freak who should be denied friendship and it certainly didn't bother him that Roy was smarter than him.

Maes crossed his arms as delicately as he could in order not to disturb the sleeping man next to him. He grinned to himself, he had blatantly ignored all the warnings all the other cadets had gave him in regards to chasing a friendship with the alchemist. He had on more than one occasion fought physically with them because he refused to follow their advice, he wasn't going to deny Roy friendship. He didn't care about power or alchemy, nor caring that alchemists were being used in the war that seemed to be never ending.

He had not been as foolish or as naïve as the man snoring to his right. Roy had went in with his eyes closed, believing that everything could be fixed with the correct application of alchemy and that as soon as the enemy saw the power the Amestrian army had unleashed then the war would be over. Sadly, it wouldn't prove that simple but Maes had never chided or mocked that belief but simply picked up the pieces when Roy was shattering with every soul he sent to the grave.

Lazily, he bounced his foot, pulling a battered looking wallet out of his inside pocket. The leather groaned as it struggled to contain the photos that were almost bursting out, most were dog eared and battered in the corners but Maes didn't care. Every one of them were as precious as a gemstone to him. He knew every one off by heart and knew what ones were where in the bundle. Expert fingers plucked out about half a dozen and he allowed a soft smile to settle on his tired features.

The first one was his wedding day, a lovely picture of his bride and him standing at the church Gracia had picked when she had been a little girl. The second was a rare picture of Roy with a streak of chocolate across his nose as war paint and pulling a silly face. The next was Riza, Roy, Armstrong and himself standing to mock attention for the picture. The final two were another of his wife in nothing but her wedding veil and garter belt and Maes would never show that picture to anyone under pain of death.

Roy's picture was something that he wouldn't share willingly either. A rare, true smile on lips normally set in a thin line during the war. Brown eyes filled with such passion and hope that Hughes had decided that whatever Roy decided on after they both survived the war, he would make sure he fulfilled it.

That was the Roy Mustang that no one wanted to see, the beautiful young soul that had never seen the horror of the war and had never ended the life of another soul with the simple click of his slender fingers. The young man who was currently falling into a deep depression because he couldn't believe that he wasn't some monster. The innocence that Bradley seemed intent on ripping out of his soldiers on the battlefield still, somehow, managed to linger in the weary soul.

He couldn't remember taking the picture but he didn't remember the odd month during the war after an incident with the Crimson Lotus Alchemist on the battlefield. The event still a hazy nightmare that had left him with a fear of enclosed spaces and tensing whenever he heard a loud pop or bang from a firework.

Maes dropped his head to the side, his jaw touching Roy's temple and he kissed it gently in an affectionate way. He had endured a few beating back during the academy because of a few idiots who couldn't differentiate between adoring, lasting friendship and homosexuality.

Roy wasn't exactly his type. Yes, he was an insanely good looking man but he hogged the covers, ate the last of the donuts and never ever made a fresh pot of tea or coffee if he finished it. He snored like a tank with a faulty exhaust pipe and would do the crossword by writing in the answers but in the wrong spots or just spelling them incorrectly much to the annoyance of everyone else.

All of those faults and more mixed in made the Flame Alchemist. Something that he hoped would never change because it had created a loyal, trustworthy man who would move the heavens for those he cared about. Roy needed to see that he was more than the rumours and nasty whispers that circulated around headquarters. He wasn't the insane Crimson Lotus Alchemist, that man was completely crazy and was madder than a box of frogs.

Hughes had never wished ill on anyone but he couldn't stop himself from hoping that bad luck of the worst possible kind graced that man. There was no love lost between him and that creature. Days at the academy and the war wanted to consume him and destroy his good mood if he allowed it but he shook himself mentally again. That monster had been arrested on war crimes and was now spending the rest of his natural life behind bars, Hughes would have been happier if the Fuhrer had sentenced him far more harshly but Crimson couldn't harm anyone where he was now.

A polite chap brought him out of his thoughts, a girl selling snacks and drinks. He offered her a smile, thinking it was rare for a food trolley to be offered to people travelling in the first class carriage. Maes didn't complain however as his stomach grumbled as he had skipped lunch napping with his friend. Rich, fancy foods always unsettled his stomach and he preferred some home made items and he could see the trolley was groaning with tempting wares and something that should not have been there.

He leaned forward as best he could, hoping that it was just his tired imagination that had created the threat his mind was telling him that was there. Why would a pretty little thing like her have a rifle stashed under the napkins on the bottom self? The country was not at war, they were at peace for the moment.

_Why is it that Roy and I never get to enjoy our vacations without someone trying to drag us into some damn fight? _Maes thought as he gave the sleeping Roy a glance, relieved that the man seemed to be deep in sleep.

"Hi," the girl said softly as she noticed the sleeping male leaning on Maes, "Care for anything?"

"Yeah..." Maes breathed as he caught sight of a larger shadow behind the slight girl, "How bout we do this quietly huh?"

The girl looked surprised at Maes answer but followed hazel eyes to the rifle that was hidden. She smiled at him with admiration and pushed the door open further to allow Maes the sight of the large man holding a terrified conductor hostage in two automailed arms.

"...Hostages huh?" Hughes pulled a face as he tucked the photos back in his wallet, adrenaline racing in his body as he forced himself to keep calm, "Lady, you have picked the wrong day to mess with me..."

**Now...After the fall of the Fuhrer and Father...**

The older Elrich brother stared in a mixture of horror, anger, sorrow and jealousy. The hospital ward was heavily guarded at both exits and he wasn't sure if he really wanted to enter the hospital room. It had been the last place he had seen a good man before he had died, the last time he had laughed and smiled with him before death had cruelly taken him.

Edward tightly clenched his fists, his fingernails digging painfully into his palms as he stared at the persons his frustrating and undefinable emotions were being aimed at. Golden coloured eyes blinking back furious tears as blonde hair fell into them. He heard footsteps almost running up the cold, white tiled corridor, he turned round and saw a concerned looking First Lieutenant Hawkeye skidding to a halt just before him.

"Did he do it? Did that stupid, spoilt, selfish man actually do it?" she asked with unhidden fear and anger, "He...he promised...after everything that has happened..."

How could he answer that? The evidence certainly indicated that Colonel Mustang had actually managed the impossible. Edward took a step towards her, trying to find the right words that kept escaping him. The woman no doubt wanted to enter the room, beat Mustang senseless for his selfish actions if it was true.

"It seems like maybe he has," Ed snorted with disbelief, "I just don't know how though."

Hawkeye swallowed with difficulty, afraid to voice the actual question. Had Mustang actually managed a human transmutation after everything they had went through? After everything he had went through? She was unwilling to look through the window, what state would he be in? What had he lost in order to bring back the dead?

Ed shook his head as he took a deep breath. Roy was in the room, finally sedated after screaming like a demon possessed, settling only when the other male had been brought back to him. The Elrich brother leaned against the wall, watching the colonel sleep under restraints placed on him by the nurses.

"I think it's him though," Ed finally said, allowing a bitter and broken smile to appear, "It's...really him according to Doctor Knox."

Hawkeye blinked, unsure of what the young blonde meant. She tilted her head, she had only been given basic information by Havoc, the man simply telling her that the chief had been stupid in the worst possible way. Jean had refused to divulge anything else over the phone and had been unable to meet her in person so had told her to head to the hospital where Ed would share more information.

Who exactly was Edward referring to? She watched as he shook his head, taking a breath to clear his mind from anything but the present.

Ed tightened his fists, wanting to strike the colonel in the hospital bed but he knew that it wouldn't do anything now. Both men deserved to be struck if he was honest but he was torn, if he struck them, then he doubted he would get the answers that were so desperately needed right now. He wanted to rush into the room and embrace the second man but his heart kept being overruled by his head being reasonable.

"Colonel Idiot isn't able to talk but..." he trailed off as he slowly opened the door, "but...he is."

It was like a blow to the chest when he saw the man sitting up on the bed. Dark hair unruly and falling into hazel eyes that blinked to clear poor vision without the aid of square glasses. A soft smile seemed to be forced as he fought back concern as he gazed at Roy on the other bed.

"Who are you?" Ed asked slowly, not wanting to pin any kind of hope onto the man.

Those hazel eyes snapped to him and Ed could see the man's brain scrambling to connect the name to the fuzzy face. A lock of dark hair fell over his right eye and a relieved sigh escaped, shoulders sagging gently downwards.

"Ed? It's me," Maes Hughes replied softly with the tone of someone who was slowly realising something wasn't quite right, "I'm...Maes Hughes, right?"

"Are you asking or telling me?" Ed crossed his arms, hearing Riza gasp in surprise as she finally entered the ward.

"I'm telling you," Maes said firmly, "I'm Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes."

_Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes... _Ed said nothing as he took that it, it was Brigadier General Hughes since his death but if he was really who he said he was, then the last rank he would remember would be that.

Dr Knox stood near Roy's bed, fully aware of the situation and of the doubt that was filling the room at present. He had examined both men and he was absolutely sure that both men were in fact human. The man claiming to be the deceased general had been happily babbling on about his wife and child, something that Hughes was infamous for.

There was no tattoos of the dreaded Hommunculli on the lightly tanned skin of Hughes, he showed everyone the same level of affection he had done before he had been killed by the monster Envy. Knox wanted to believe that it was him, that Hughes had somehow cheated death but he knew otherwise.

He had performed the autopsy on the man. Cracking open a strong rib cage and carefully removing the vital organs that were contained. His own hands had weighed his internal organs, retrieving the bullet that had extinguished the light of Maes. He knew the precise weight of the man's heart and found that it just hadn't seemed big enough for the sheer amount of love that the family man had within him.

Whoever, whatever had brought him back had done a rather remarkable job. He didn't have a perfect body, there were scars that Hughes could correctly place and name how he got them. He couldn't place two of them however, one on his upper arm right arm and the gunshot wound above his heart.

Knox honestly hoped that Hughes was Hughes. It would be heartbreaking to end his life but if the gentle man was not human, then...it would be kinder.

"It is the brigadier general," Knox finally said as he broke the heavy silence that had fallen, "There is no visible sign of the markings to show that he is a Hommunculli."

"Brigadier gene...? Hommunculli? What?" Hughes' surprise was clear in the confused mumble, "how...I'm just a lieutenant colonel. When the hell did I get a promotion above Roy?"

_Let's see how he reacts to this, _Edward thought, "After you were killed."

The eldest son of Von Hohemhiem felt his heart constrict as Hughes made an odd sound on hearing the information. Hazel eyes stared numbly at Knox then at Ed, he rubbed his face as he tried to digest the information. He leaned forward, taking deep breaths to calm himself. Ed didn't know the details of Hughes death, only what he had read in the newspaper when he had returned to Central a few weeks after the man's demise at the hands of Envy. He had blamed Mustang at the time, not realising that the colonel was hurting just as much, if not more than he was.

He had watched revenge take the colonel underneath the city, he could stand by as Riza struggled to bring him back from the edge of madness the death of Hughes had placed him on and it was then, Edward realised that Mustang wasn't all that different from him.

"I died fighting right?" Maes asked quietly into the room, "My girls? My girls are okay right?"

Hawkeye watched the man, this was honest emotions. There was no indication that he was being anything but honest with them. It seemed as though the man sitting on the bed was in fact, Maes Hughes.

"You died trying to warn Colonel Mustang not to trust the senior officers," Hawkeye informed as she watched over the seated man, "You discovered a huge lead and was silenced because of it."

Ed could only watch as Maes took that information in. He saw the range of emotions battling in the man's eyes, Maes stared at his hands, his breathing catching in his throat and he looked over to Roy. Realisation dawning on his face as he fought back a pained and terrified sob.

Had Roy...had Roy broken his promise?

"Am I...am I...did he...?" he couldn't stop the tears that spilled over, he didn't want to exist if there was the tiniest possibility that he was in fact a monster.

Ed walked over to the bed, in his experience with the Hommunculli, they had rarely shown any emotion other than the ones they had been created to show. Knox had examined him, stating that Hughes could account for all scars on his body, save for two on his arm and above his heart.

He hugged Hughes suddenly, the man had treated him like a son when he and his brother would visit Central. Feeding them to the point of bursting and then trying to offer advise in his unique style. Hughes had never asked for anything in return and Ed wondered if anyone had ever asked the man to look after them or if he had simply took the initiative. He had shown a more paternal side to himself, a side that Ed would relish in and had indulged even if he acted like he didn't like it.

Strong arms wrapped themselves around the blonde as Maes rested his head on his shoulder, he felt tears soak his shirt and Ed hugged him slightly tighter. This was no action of a monster, no Hommunculli had acted this way but none of the seven monsters had been created for love. The only exception to that had been Greed, the creature showing signs of understanding other emotions like love and friendship and had used loyalty to defend those he considered his property.

Maes stilled as he raised his head as he realised something, "Ed, your arm..."

"Yeah," Ed laughed softly, "All better."

"You got your bodies back?" Maes held him at arms length, going into father mode.

The blonde male nodded, "It's a long story but yeah. I got my arm back and Al managed to get out of his armour."

Hughes beamed at that like a proud father, the man wiping away a tear that refused to shift. It felt good to have someone hug him and not stare at him like he was some threat and he just wished that he could clearly see the young man Ed had turned into. Hawkeye took a slow step forward, holding out a pair of glasses, her face neutral as she tried to figure out what had happened. Ed took the glasses and handed to Maes, waiting for the man to say something. If he got a surprise from Ed's arm being normal, then wait until he saw Alphonse.

Hughes gratefully took the glasses, sliding them onto his nose. He sighed with relief as he saw Hawkeye. His eyes darting over to the sedated Roy and his smile fell from his face. Why was he strapped down and should he be dead?

He scanned the room, everyone looked as though they had been through the mill and then some. Ed had had a growth spurt, that was obvious and he had turned into a good looking, strong young man. He had lost his puppy fat and had became lean but still retained his youthful looks. The young man had been loud, brash and small who could fight like a tiger caught in a cage when provoked.

He recognised the two guards at the exits, mean looking guns were gripped tightly in firm hands. He wasn't an idiot, they were there to either ensure that he remained or to keep people away. What they had failed to realise was that he had escaped from numerous sticky situations and tighter prisons than a hospital ward. He was a dab hand at escaping, much to the amusement of his friend Roy.

"You got big kid," Maes said as he took a deep breath calming himself, "Looking good."

Ed smiled back, "Yeah, turns out, I wasn't as tall as I should have been because Al was getting everything."

"Huh..." Maes blinked, how much had he missed if they were telling the truth? How long had he been gone?

Roy didn't look that different, a few grey hairs creeping in the mess that Roy had affectionately called hair. Riza looked flawless as always but Hughes could see a fading scar across a pale throat, that hadn't been there last time he had seen her.

"About three years," Ed seemed almost telepathic, "You've been gone for three years."

_Three years? Three...Elicia is six now? My baby girl is six? She just turned three..._Maes nodded slowly, rubbing his neck.

"I have a request," Maes looked directly at Knox, "Can I bum a smoke?"

Hawkeye laughed in surprise. Maes had a bad habit and she had thought that Roy had ordered him to stop but she knew that stress could aggravate bad habits. She remembered that Hughes would only smoke if he knew Roy wasn't in the nearby area and if he was caught, he had always used Havoc as the scape goat.

"Didn't you quit?" Hawkeye crossed her arms.

Maes blushed in a caught in a cookie jar kind of way. He gave her a shy look before looking over to Roy, He sighed heavily, he hadn't really, much to the annoyance of his wife. He simply didn't smoke when Roy was around, he wasn't an idiot. Gracia would buy him vanilla based and fused deodorants and would spray him liberally if he stank of nicotine when he came home.

"Only when Roy was in Central," Maes admitted with embarrassment, "Gracia is always moaning at me to actually quit. She always finds my packs and throws in them in the trash."

Everything he said was present tense, Hawkeye had noticed with fascination, was Hughes really the warm Hughes? He had been thrilled to see Edward all grown up and she had noticed that he had kept sneaking looks over to the unconscious Roy. Concern was there but it was tainted with a look of worry. She could see him wanting to ask him if he had done the impossible, broken the one taboo that alchemists had.

"Hughes..." Ed sat on the edge of the bed, "what do you remember? You know, before you got here?"

Maes looked once again to Mustang, shrugging his shoulders. He didn't know. He remembered events, searching for the Alchemist Killer and visiting the boys in the hospital after the Lab Five collapsing. There was a feeling of unease as he recalled events and he couldn't shake the dread settling in his stomach. An overriding emotion that seemed to find it's way into his heart, he had a feeling of concern that had turned to terror for his friend.

"I don't remember details but I remember needing to tell Roy something important," Maes shook his head, frustrated that he couldn't put it into words.

"Like telling us that command was not to be trusted?" Hawkeye wanted to truly believe that this was her friend but if it was, then it meant the end of her trust to Roy Mustang.

Hughes sighed, unsure if that was the case. He shrugged again, hating how he didn't have any answers for the people he cared about. He was in charge of Intelligence, he was supposed to know if and why someone sneezed any place in Central but he couldn't find the information needed relating to the most vital questions that people were asking him right now.

How did he get here and why? Who had brought him back?


End file.
